Читать книгу Stan Mitty - Kevin Colbran - Страница 2

The orders to move came through with each platoon leapfrogging up the coast with Company HQ bringing up the stragglers. Because fitting in with other unit's movements was a priority rather than speed; it was the best part of six weeks before arriving in the Darwin area. Practice at blending into the bush and infantry minor tactics were carried out at every opportunity.

Travelling with Captain Reynolds became routine, combining intelligence reports and counter-insurgent tactics.

‘Orange’ was sword rattling over all sorts of obscure offences with all their neighbours indiscriminately; the RAAF flying the F111 direct to the USA and taking out the precision bombing championship always seemed to bring out the most angst. Reports of incursions into East Timor and Papua New Guinea were on the increase as were the fishing boats leaving signs of visits in the North.

Passing through Darwin, Col Roberts gathered the commanders with Stan and attended a briefing with Lt Col George as to the purpose and scope of our presence. “HQ moves in with Norforce as supernumeraries; the infantry platoons position themselves to provide rapid response task forces on call. The specialist platoons to be spread filling out the Norforce patrols,” Col Roberts suggested.

“How definite is the ‘Orange’ threat?” Col George asked.

“Currently, 85% rising every week up till four weeks before the Wet. Then it will fade back to the commencement of the Dry where it will again increment to 95% at the same period as now,” Corporal Travis supplied, “With the same pattern is the second year but now rising to definite. Subject to the regime not changing or detecting our presence.”

“Why are those timings significant?” Col George asked somewhat bemused that a junior NCO would be supplying this assessment.

“The routine exercises wind down about then when everyone evacuates before the Wet, even Norforce patrols reduces their activity,” Travis said, “Once ‘Orange’ gets enough troops in they can sit through the Wet ready to expand as soon as it starts to dry. No exercises are programmed 3 or 4 weeks either end of the Dry; Norforce recommences patrols about the same time.”

“What is the consensus for their next move?” Col George asked.

“Capture several ports and mining heads, hold the workers as hostages then claim sovereign rights because ancestors fished there,” Travis said, “The mining companies perhaps approached to continue operations giving some legitimacy to their occupation. Reinforcements by the planeload would be arriving daily together with heavier equipment by ship.”

“Once established it would take a full-scale war to dislodge them. 'Orange' can handle ten times the attrition rate that we can,” Col George commented, “Naturally I have been in part of the loop and have made preliminary deployment plans based on having three companies assimilating into our structure.”

“So as soon as the troops are ready, each company will deploy as designated and the reaction forces will position as close as practicable to the more vulnerable targets,” Col Roberts decided.

“If they note the extra units, they have the wherewithal to engage other targets, which Australian forces would then have to deploy more troops to protect,” Stan added, “Our allies could be discouraged from participating by closing the sea-lanes through their archipelago citing pirate activity.

“And if we succeed in disrupting their plans?” Col George asked.

“They will probably cut their losses, and deny any involvement or blame it on a rogue element,” Stan suggested.

The teams to accompany the Norforce teams were assigned, with Stan, Wendell and Bob forming one to see the format and remedy any shortcomings. After several hours winding their way through scenic bushland and coastline via remote bush roads, Stan commented, “And to think they pay us to do this. We must remember to emphasise the deprivations or everyone will want to come.”

At one estuary where some activity had occurred on previous visits, the team disembarked and did a foot recce to see if further signs were evident. Sgt Domige pointed to evidence of grooves from fishing boats; they were still there somewhat eroded by wind and water. Footprints in the mud further up the creek were consistent with bare feet as you would expect real fishermen. Five seconds thought would also give the fix by removing boots. “I counted four men when the tracks were fresh mostly they did as normal, filling water casks except for one who did an extensive wander, stopping at likely campsites before rejoining his crew and leaving,” Domige assessed.

“How many similar sites are there?” Travis asked.

“We have counted about a dozen on our run, some visited more often than others,” Domige supplied, “The favourite ones we inspect each time, removing our traces before moving on, about three seem to be in that category.”

“How close to mines and their associated ports?” Travis asked.

“Two of the most popular; which we will visit later in the day,” Sgt Domige answered, “Of course one is unlikely because visiting locals were wearing footwear, it being closer to the port.”

“OK, it’s your show, lead on,” Stan said.

After rounding a couple of headlands, we arrived at one of the busy spots, parking the vehicles well out of sight the party preceded cautiously being careful not to leave traces. Remaining standing upon the leaf litter, the Sgt pointed out the signs commenting that they were fresh.

“There is about a dozen this time, with three leaving with the boat,” Sgt Domige whispered. Then louder, “Nothing here we will move on. Tom’s probably wondering what is keeping us.”

Using field signals, he indicated not to look around and move back to the vehicles. Arriving near the trucks, he commented, “There is a small party hanging around, not close enough to do anything, I doubt that they would start something as long as we keep moving. When well clear I will send a duff signal covering a coded message,” He grinned, “Looks like I scoop the pool being the first to spot them.”

After putting what he thought was useful distance pulled over and reached for the radio. “Norforce 1, Norforce Foxtrot sitrep, road clear, a bag of green fruit without spots waiting on return, over.”

“Roger last, Norforce 1 out.”

“Norforce foxtrot out,” Switching off the radio Bert informed the others, “Bit obvious for an English speaker that was Green site; that I had seen signs of a small group but didn’t see anyone.”

“The next step is a platoon level recce coming from the port direction seeing if it cuts any sign,” Stan affirmed.

“Yeah believe I was at that brief too,” Bert rolled his eyes to indicate not to teach how to suck eggs.

Stan just laughed.

The radio crackled, “Norforce Foxtrot, Norforce 1, CSM locate caterpillar before returning, over.”

“Norforce Foxtrot, wait out.” Stan thought a minute then transmitted, “Norforce Foxtrot, Wilco, over.”

“Norforce 1 out.”

At the question unasked, “It seems that I need to grow my moustache for when I return to base,” Stan said, “The why, I suppose will have to wait. Bob, you can try as well.”

“Ha, my 5 o'clock shadow beats your week old,” Bob returned.

“Good thing young Travis doesn’t need one as well, beats me that you are old enough for the hooks?” Bert grinned running his fingers through the forest hiding most of his face.

And got a bite from Travis, “After you set a couple of geriatric serjeants on their bums, they put a couple in your Christmas stocking.”

“Ho, ho, ho and they let you keep them?” Bert laughed, “I use bigger splinters to pick my teeth.”

“Better believe it, caught me by surprise that one did,” Bob said solemnly.

“Okay back to work, will we carry on or meet the recce force?” Bert asked.

“Carry on, or our involvement becomes too evident,” Stan decided.

“That is how my orders read, so let’s away. We visit another two likely spots and then camp for the night,” Bert agreed, “Besides if we want more than bully beef, we also need to wet a couple of lines.”

“This ordeal gets worse and worse, how much more can a bloke stand?” Stan fake groaned.

After surveying the last two sites and finding them undisturbed, a camp was set by the several junior soldiers, while the seniors dealt with the tedious job of catching fish for tea. It wasn’t long that the intrepid fishermen returned with enough fish to feed the party, coincidently as long as it took to set the tents and dig the latrine. As the bivouac was semi-tactical with potential insurgents in the area, piquet duty was set and lights out at sunset. This caution was necessary as the three vehicles, and associated equipment would be a valuable plum to pick. Because they were supposed to be on a regular patrol, they couldn’t hide so selected an area with plenty of open approaches so that surveillance was easy from the camp.

Settling back after a scrumptious repast of fresh fish, Bert commented, “I had heard rumours of the boy's prowess with a knife, hell if it is up to his fork standard, you have my total respect. Where do you put it?”

“Travis is the champion eleventh man at the mess tent,” Bob declared solemnly.

Bert’s eyebrows went up, “Why eleventh?”

“The first or the last ten get to fling the grub and then have to wait until everyone else has theirs before they eat,” Bob clarified.

That got a chuckle as all cleaned up and stored the gear away. And the rest of the setup of the Bivvy was completed. After digging several gun pits with the Piquet manning the LMG, which commanded the approaches. The night proceeded quietly, and when the party ‘stood to’ pre-dawn, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred; only a few kangaroos were enjoying the open grassland. Not a disappointment according to Bert though.

After packing up and restoring the campsite to the pristine condition they found it, the patrol moved off, for another two days trek to the point where the next patrol would be met to compare notes. At the next routine ‘sitrep’ included was ‘Bag of fruit waiting at base’ which was welcome news, indicating that their company was entertaining a group of ‘errant fishermen’, and no doubt having fun trying to explain their presence.

At the rendezvous, the two patrols compared notes and yes there was reconnoitre activity indicated at several points on both circuits. With a return trip to the base, then a weekend off before rerunning the same course, this meant that each site of interest would be visited four times in every three weeks. By the time the patrol had returned to base, Bob and Stan had grown the required moustache and now looked like their African tour.

“What’s up?” Stan asked Col Roberts when they were alone.

“It seems rumours have you here in the Aussie Army, so how would you like to be in three places at once?”

“What’s planned?” Stan asked

“That WO2 Artificer Mitty marches into 171 Sqn Holsworthy according to the Army Gazette, the mining company delivers the Colonel Mitty Security Company with suitable fanfare in a business jet, and there is no reference to you at this address.”

“So who is coming with me?” Stan inquired.

“Warrant Officer Samuels, Captain Isaacs and a couple of the senior serjeants to make up an inspection team. The party then tours the mining camps, drilling rigs and ports to provide security risk assessment and advice to remedy shortfalls. As a side event to the extravaganza, the military risk evaluation and recommendations could also happen; then after roaring around the countryside annoying the crap out of all and sundry, the party then exits stage right to great fanfare.”

“Sounds fun, we fly to the East at night, camp up in safari rig to return bright and early the next day?” Stan paraphrased.

“Yes, after a couple of days to finish preparations. The mining consortium having some problems with petty theft and appraised of the Orange threat, so their security is keen to co-operate,” Roberts said, “That bag of fruit turned out to be lemons, actually boat people aiming to enter the mining area after jobs or if sprung claim asylum. They found a food cache which they were enjoying when nasty army guys surrounded them. About halfway through your little performance, they will be handed over to immigration as a package found wandering on the track.”

“Oh, any info on the how and why?” Stan asked.

“Perhaps a test of our patrols using them as cats-paws, there was more gear hidden a bit better; experts rendered the ammunition dud and the site restored to original condition with tell-tales,” Roberts supplied.

“Well that confirms the likelihood that is one of the prime landing areas,” Stan commented, “I will go and round up my crew and give them the good news.” Saluting as he left.

Finding Bob at the mess hall, Stan asked him to gather the designated party and meet back at Stan’s office. Stan was waiting when Bob ushered Travis, Jones and Wallace into the office. “Take a pew, how would you like to take part in a little pantomime?”

“I doubt that choice is involved, what’s the deal?” Bob asked having been in the services for a long enough time.

“Just a couple of flights, step off the plane to thunderous welcome then tour around the area swanning at Mining Company expense,” Stan explained.

“And the catch is?” Bob asked.

“We all come out of the closet. Then tell the world that Colonel Mitty is here to save the day for the benefit of Big business,” Stan delivered with a poker face, “Captain Isaacs will need to dust off her heels and stick on a wig. The rest of us in safari/flying suits suitable for a super security firm.”

“What’s the game? I have had to work hard for this role,” Travis demanded.

“It’s an elaborate smokescreen to place all of us somewhere else rather than part of a unit with a covert purpose,” Stan explained.

“Who’s this Isaacs never heard of her?” Jones asked.

“That would be me; I hope this doesn’t spoil all my hard work?” Wendy grumbled, “And no way will I be in heels for fieldwork.”

At this Jones and Wallace were flabbergasted, even disturbed Bob.

“What?” Wendy pulled a face, “Could you think of a better disguise among you Neanderthals?”

“This little information doesn’t leave this room. Meet Captain Wendy Isaacs a.k.a. Corporal Wendell Travis,” Stan introduced her, “The real purpose is to muddy the waters for this operation and puts us in the best position to see all of the facilities.” Stan explained, “If the idea of good food and soft beds are against your principles, we can carry ration packs and sleeping bags. I will even throw in some sand, twigs and ants.”

“Wouldn't want to put you to that much trouble,” Bob said then asked, “So when and where, etcetera?”

“Two days from now we fly over to Townsville on the night gravel truck. Later the next morning, we then go to the international terminal, climb aboard an executive jet and fly back to be welcomed by the Mining mob. Next to be loaded up in suitable non-military 4x4s and proceed on the circuit of facilities,” Stan described the programme, “Should take about a week then we deliver an assessment of their security and where they need to lift their game. A copy plus a real-time intelligence assessment handed to Colonel George under the counter. Colonel Mitty et al. then flies out to create havoc elsewhere around the world.”

“Then what?” Asked Bob.

“We come back individually by whatever means available, not in a group as it would smell rather fishy that five people the same size etcetera turned up here the next day,” Stan finished with, “Any problems?”

“Apart from my secret being out, no dramas,” Wendy commented. Everyone else nodded.

“All settled, Caribou inter depot departs 1700 hours Wednesday. See you then,” Stan announced.

The men left leaving Wendy with Stan, “Just whose bright idea is this one?” Wendy accused.

“Not me,” Stan said raising his hands in mock defence, “Roberts dropped it on me half an hour ago; the only hint was the moustache.”

“Well it is going to take more than a week’s wandering eyebrow to carry this off, I can hardly go to Target then buy frillies and war paint, looking like this?” Wendy stated.

“I believe that your old civvies’ kit will be waiting in Townsville,” Stan offered.

“I should have known once the uniform was on there goes common sense out the window for the powers that be,” Wendy flung over her shoulder as she stalked out.